Those Last Words
by MWolfe13
Summary: The Fates were cruel, letting you find your soulmate just before you lost them. Rated M because of the theme. Look inside for trigger warning.


**So I was feeling very angsty last night and I almost didn't post this, but decided what the hell.**

 **I've been thinking about Soulmate AUs, so here is my very sad one-shot on people knowing who their Soulmate is when they hear the last words they'd ever spoken to them.**

 **WARNING: Do not read if Suicide of any kind is a trigger for you.**

 **Let me know what you think in the reviews!**

* * *

Winning the war was supposed to make their lives better. It was supposed to bring joy and happiness that everything was over. They could rebuild their country for the better. Things would change. It was expected that citizens would get married, have babies, start looking to the future.

What a lie that was.

Everything was not better. The corruption was better under the rule of their new Minister, but most prominent Pureblood families had avoided Azkaban by paying half their Gringotts vaults in fines. Anti-Muggleborn laws had taken months to repeal, Hermione's war heroine status the only thing keeping her from imprisonment by those same bigoted Wizengamot members. No one was getting married; many Soulmates had been lost in the battles. Babies were the last thing on anyone's mind, not with their world still a long way from recovery.

And what a recovery it was, Hermione thought bitterly. Everyone was either suffering from PTSD or depression. Sometimes it was both. A good percentage of their population had been wiped out. In fact, Hermione had already guessed that they would need to start bringing in Wizards and Witches from other countries or Wizarding Britain would be no more within a few generations.

Hermione supposed, eventually, their world really would recover. Shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade had started to open. It had been mostly food places, but it was a start. So yes, she believed things would get to a point they could be a functioning society again. Hermione only knew that she would always be alone. There would be no happy life for her.

Hermione had thought for many years that the fates were cruel. Why would they mark you with the last words you would ever hear your soulmate say? How did that benefit anyone except to know exactly who they were before you lost them? She had always imagined many situations where someone would tell her, "Smile Granger, it's not the end of the world." In fact, there had been plenty of opportunities over the years.

That hopeful dread had come to pass in the form of Fred Weasley, just before he had run off with his brother. She hadn't thought of it then, too focused on her task, too absorbed in her head to realize what he'd said. It'd only been later when she'd been standing with Harry as the Weasley's grieved his fallen form, that Hermione had realized what he'd said.

No one had ever seen those words, the writing wrapped around her thigh like a spiral. He couldn't have known what they would mean to her. He'd said them like a joke, Hermione could remember now, because that night could have been the end of the world. He'd been her Soulmate. Never in her right mind would she have guessed it. They'd been friends, sure, and Hermione could admit his mind had been brilliant, but she'd never thought about them as a couple.

They say you didn't know what you had until you lost it. Those words were accurate. Hermione had never imagined them as a couple when he'd been alive. Now, it was a different story. She imagined the dates they would have went on, and what it would be like to be in a serious committed relationship with Fred Weasley. Oh, she knew there would be all manner of pranks played on her. She also knew there would have been plenty of laughter and happiness. Fred Weasley had strived to make everyone happy. And he'd taken all the joy with him.

What had she even said to him? What had been the last words he'd heard from her? She couldn't remember.

The door banged open, Hermione jumping in fright. She almost whipped out her wand, but the familiar red hair let her know it was a Weasley. No one had been in the house, Hermione had seen them all leave on different pursuits almost an hour ago. It was why she had felt comfortable enough to come out of her room, even if all she'd done was think depressing thoughts.

Her breath caught when she realized precisely which Weasley it was. George had, understandably, taken Fred's death the hardest. He'd closed down the shop, refusing to reopen at his friends urging. He'd taken to staying in their flat above the store. Ginny had told her that the one time she had gone with their mum to check on him all the mirrors in the flat had been smashed to pieces. Hermione could understand his reasoning, not wanting to be reminded of his other half but not able to avoid it when you looked just like that half.

He rarely came to the Burrow anymore, so Hermione was a little shocked to see him of all people entering the house. She sighed when noticed the open bottle of Firewhiskey in one hand, his eyes already glazed over with the telltale sign of intoxication.

He noticed her right away; she wasn't exactly hiding. He plopped down on the seat beside her, taking a swig from the bottle. "Didn't expect you to be here Granger, was hoping the house would be empty."

She sniffed, not realizing until she opened her mouth to reply that she'd been crying this whole time. "Yes, well I didn't fancy leaving the house." She did not explain her tears, and he didn't ask.

They sat in silence, George taking sips of his drink every now and again. The hours passed, the suns changing position the only sign that time was still turning. She knew Molly would come home soon to prepare dinner. They had maybe a couple more hours before everyone returned home. Eventually, George offered her the bottle and Hermione accepted. They traded the drink back and forth, Hermione realizing he had placed a bottomless charm on the thing.

She knew she effectively pissed when she could have sworn she saw Fred looking down on them with worried eyes.

George finally broke the silence, his words heavy with despair. "I've officially closed Weasley's Wizards Wheezes, sold the building this morning."

Hermione gasped, "George…" But she didn't continue with her question. She'd known exactly why he'd done it. The joke shop had been the twin's dream. Not just one or the other, but both of them together. It was a constant reminder of Fred, and as Ginny had already told her, he didn't, no, couldn't live with that memory.

George's eyes had widened before slowly looking away, his hands shaking for some reason. That did it. She started to cry big racking sobs that sounded loud in the empty house. Hands pulled her to a firm chest; fingers ran through her mess of hair trying to sooth. Distantly, she could feel water falling onto her head and dripping down her face to mix with her own tears. They were one big mess on the couch, neither receiving comfort like some would from a hug and a good cry.

When her tears had run out, Hermione pressed her face into the tear-soaked chest. In her mind, she could pretend it was Fred holding her, letting her ruin his shirt. She was sleepy now, the alcohol and crying jag officially wearing her out. She frowned when she felt someone lay her down back on the couch.

She was sure her nightmares her taunting her when she heard, "Smile Granger, it's not the end of the world."

* * *

They found him the next morning.

After he had tucked Hermione into the couch, George had gone to their old bedroom. No one had gone into the room since the battle, the noticeable lack of a dusting charm evidence that even their mum couldn't stand to be in there. He'd allowed himself to look around the room, examining items that they had left behind. He'd let memories, sweet, happy memories of their time together to flood through his mind. Their years at Hogwarts, their experiments, their dreams, and wishes. It had all broken through like a dam that couldn't hold the pressure any longer.

He'd used his magic to tie the rope; he was a Wizard after all. Magic had been a part of his life since his conception. He'd thought it fitting that magic, who had taken twin, would help take him too. He'd thought about using an Avada, but he hadn't wanted any question on the circumstances of his death. His family wouldn't have to wonder if he'd been murdered, or had taken his own life. It'd be clear, and then they could move on.

Once everything had been in place, he'd written the words _I'm Sorry_ on the mirror with magic. The person it was intended for would know it. It had been his last regret in life, realizing who she was. The fates had been cruel indeed.

Stepping onto the stool, he'd looked into the mirror one last time before ending it all.

When Molly Weasley had entered the twin's room with the idea of dusting it and in the process start moving on from losing a child, the sight of George's body hanging from the noose brought her to her knees with a wail. Nobody had left the house yes, so everyone had rushed to see what had happened. There were cries of shock, sadness, disbelief.

They'd rushed to cut him down, to try and save him even though his body was cold, the blood in his body already pulling. Still, Harry had opened his shirt and started compression's that Hermione had made both boys learn during their time on the run.

That was when Hermione had seen it. Right there on his collarbone was the name _George_. It could have been a tattoo, maybe a joke he had planned to play on his mum by telling her he had gotten his name marked on his body so she wouldn't mistake who was who again. But Hermione knew that wasn't true. She hazily remembered the last thing she'd said to him, his name, and she recalled the last words she'd heard last night.

It hadn't been her nightmares taunting her after all.

Ginny crashed into her arms, a sobbing mess that Hermione could not provide comfort for. She was cold, the warmth forever leaving her. She was lost, her memory rapidly trying to look for a sign that she should have seen. Her mind was confused, and her heart was hurt.

Hermione would never smile again, just the thought bringing those last words to the forefront. They were just another set of victim's, their souls mercilessly torn apart by Fate's cruel touch.


End file.
